dreaming of oceans while jumping in puddles
by tomhiddlest0ner
Summary: Klaine AU: Badboy!Blaine. Everyone said Blaine Anderson was nothing but trouble, but Kurt couldn't help but be utterly intrigued by the boy. He's strange and he's beautiful, messed up and crazy - it's a good thing Kurt likes to fix things. DISCONTINUED.
1. Troubled Boy, Going Through A Phase

**A/N: This is an AU where Blaine is kind of a troublemaker and Kurt is, well, Kurt. In his senior year and still getting bullied, Kurt meets Blaine, who transferred to McKinley because he was tired of the clean-cut, polished Dalton Days. I don't know if I'll continue this or make it a one-shot, but feedback would be appreciated and if enough people want me to continue, I shall do so~ if it's a multi-chapter, it'll be set to the song _Pretend_ by Scott Porter and the Glory Dogs.**

* * *

Blaine Anderson raised a cigarette to his lips as the cold air blew around him, his scarf and hair ruffling in the breeze as he inhaled deeply. He found that he liked the burning sensation at the back of his throat, the warm feeling that coursed through his veins and made him feel less lethal than the cigarette really was. The slight wind carried the smoke the boy exhaled, sending it upward only to disappear within a few moments. He couldn't recall when he had started this habit – his mother called it dirty, but then again, his mother called everything he did dirty.

She wasn't his biggest fan.

The only family he had, really, was Cooper, and even then the brothers weren't close at all. Cooper was off making his dreams come true, even if it was for those stupid adverts and the occasional zombie cameo in _The Walking Dead._ Whereas Blaine... well, Blaine was stuck in Lima, Ohio, doing nothing but jumping about on stage in blazers that matched everyone else's, singing cheerful music and making people fawn over him. Not that he wanted most people, anyway. Most people that wanted him were girls. Blaine didn't want girls.

This was something that Blaine often thought about – if he could choose, would he have chosen to be straight? Sure, he'd get a lot less bullied, but he wasn't entirely sure that, had he been able to choose, he'd have chosen the normal path. As generalizing as it was, being gay kind of set him apart from others, gave him a little more room to be his own person. What Blaine was afraid of was the ever growing feeling that he would be just like he was now, even if he did like girls. Abandoned, alone and a complete misfit.

Sighing, the boy stubbed out his cigarette using the brick wall against which he was leaning. The feeling of satisfaction remained, but Blaine knew that it would be long gone soon enough and he'd be back here slowly killing himself. Then again, it was the only way to kill his self, seeing as Blaine didn't have enough guts to take the easy way out.

He eyed his surroundings, wondering whether or not to go to class this morning. Since he'd transferred to McKinley, wanting to lose that perfect good-boy status that weighed him down and put so much pressure on him, he'd not really gone to many classes. He had Spanish, now, and Mr. Schuester was one of the most persistent of his teachers, which would mean there would be questions later if he didn't show up. Gnawing the inside of his cheek, he decided he'd ditch Spanish. Mr. Schuester would hassle him, sure, but the worst Blaine'd get was detention.

Blaine sighed once more before slipping his hands inside the leather jacket he wore, shielding himself somewhat from the cold. It didn't work, though, and he shivered as he made his way to his car. Sliding in, he started the thing and cranked up the heater as high as it would go, starting off down the road, not entirely sure where he was headed, but not really caring, either.

Tired of being thrown in trash bins, Kurt Hummel had retaliated. It was his senior year and he sure as hell did not deserve this – being gay wasn't exactly a big deal to him, but the Neanderthals, with their extra body fat and horrible haircuts, begged to differ. Homophobia, Kurt thought, was way 1900's – out of practice by most. It had been a long day for the young man and dealing with the football players was not on his immediate to-do list. Hands in pockets, he was making his way down to his car when they appeared, sniggering at him and dropping their bags.

Still, he would always be pleased to see that Noah Puckerman and Finn Hudson were no longer in the pack of yetis that found enjoyment in making his life hell.

They were advancing on him, smirking at Kurt as they expected him to take of whatever designer jacket he was wearing and willingly let himself be thrown into the garbage bin. Not today, he thought, actively avoiding the boys that were stepping toward him faster yet. "Resistance is futile, Hummel," Azimio said, laughing slightly.

"Sorry, Azimio, but I'm going to have to say 'no' this time," Kurt quipped, pursing his lips as he tried to move past the teenage boys. Dave Karofsky sniggered.

"We don't need your permission," he replied, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"But it'd be awfully nice if you'd just back off for once, you animals."

Of course, they wouldn't, but it was worth a try, wasn't it? Kurt hadn't meant to do it, though – he was thrashing around trying to get away from the idiots that were grabbing at his legs, his arms, and really any body part they could find (a grab at a part which Kurt would rather not be grabbed caused a squeal to erupt from his throat) and Kurt didn't like this at all. He managed to tug one of his arms free much to his surprise and stared at it dumbly before flailing it around, yelping in surprise when it collided with Dave's nose. The sickening crack made him feel ill.

It was enough to start a chain reaction – Dave screamed and dropped Kurt's right side, hands flying to his nose, blood seeping through the cracks in his fingers. _Yikes,_ Kurt thought, blinking as the rest of him was dropped. He landed with a thud and the boys were in a frenzy, some grabbing at him again and some seeing if Dave was okay.

The boy managed to scamper away on his hands and knees before standing up and running toward his car, none of the boys bothering to follow. Because of this, he paused to check his clothes. They were totalled, by his standards. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, brushing dust and dirt from his coat and pants before unlocking his car. "Ass holes."

He didn't realise Mr. Schuester rushing up to him, a worried expression on his face. "What happened, Kurt?"

Kurt's head shot up and he blinked in surprise at the teacher. "What?"

"What happened just then?" the man asked again, frowning in concern. Kurt just shook his head.

"Nothing happened, Mr. Schuester," he replied, though Schuster wasn't convinced at all. He couldn't do much, though, if Kurt didn't speak his side of the story.

"You punched Karofsky in the face, Kurt..."

"Yes, yes I did."

"Was he saying things?"

"Everybody says things."

In honesty, Kurt was tired. He was tired of being bullied and he was tired of being kicked around like he was nothing – he was a person, a person who lived and breathed and spoke and _felt things._ He didn't understand what people couldn't see when they looked at him. Normalcy? In this day and age there was no such god damned thing as normalcy. And it wasn't as though Kurt was a horrible person, either. Sure, he was a mean fashion critique, but other than that he was a nice person and didn't give anyone reason to hate him.

Well, aside from his sexuality.

But he couldn't see what the big deal was because there wasn't a big deal; those boys were just idiots who felt threatened by him. He had to snort at the thought. Like he'd ever be interested in dick heads like them.

"I'm going to have to give you detention, Kurt," Mr. Schuester said, regret coating his words. He really didn't want to, but he'd get in trouble himself if he didn't and it'd reflect badly on him – besides, he didn't really want Kurt thinking that it was okay to punch people, though he was sure that the teenage boy had a very good reason for what he did.

"Yeah, okay Mr. Schuester," Kurt replied lowly. He didn't care.

He didn't care at all.

Detention was slow today, Blaine realised as he walked into the room. He'd been here a few times and usually he was the only one here – most others that ended up with detention just didn't turn up. No one followed it up, anyway. Blaine would leave, too, but he he'd rather sit in detention then go home and fight with his parents. He snorted at the fact that they thought they could scream or bash the gay out of him, or even just the teenage delinquent. Wasn't gonna happen, they should know that by now. As he sauntered into the room, Blaine gave his name to the teacher and was rather surprised to see another boy sitting at a chair by the window, staring absently outside though numerous books were scattered over his desk. He didn't look up as Blaine moved past him to the back row of chairs, slumping in his chair and not bothering to take out his homework or class work and start anything.

Pursing his lips together, the teacher at the front of the room made sure the two weren't going to be speaking any time soon and mumbled something about work needing to get done, though all he really wanted to do was walk down to the store and get some food for himself. Blaine had been in here long enough to know the teacher that always got stuck with detention quite well. As the man left, Blaine let his eyes fall to the back of the boys head.

Kurt could feel the strangers gaze on the back of his head and he felt like a piece of meat being eyed by a lion. What would it take for people to just piss off and leave him alone? He sighed and went back to his work, doing his best to ignore the person behind him though his cheeks were aflame and his heart was pounding. If the boy was going to hurt him, the time would be now.

But Blaine had no such intentions. He found this boy, obviously older than himself, quite intriguing to say the least. He was well groomed, which was more than he could say for the rest of the males at this school. Gorgeous, too, Blaine found himself thinking, much to his own dismay. He shouldn't be crushing on a total stranger at all, he shouldn't be wondering what his neck would taste like or what it would be like to thrust him against a wall and have him –

The curly haired boy is pulled from his thoughts by the other male's voice and he blinks in surprise, finding that the male had turned around with his eyebrows raised. "What?" Blaine asks, raising his own eyebrows.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I said, are you going to keep staring or talk to me? All you've done for the past..." he turns and looks at the clock for a moment, then reverts his gaze back to Blaine, "ten minutes is blatantly stare."

Blaine's caught off-guard, but he smirks. "I can't not stare at you, have you seen yourself?" he quips, and Kurt's lips pull up just a little bit in what slightly resembles a smile.

"Right," he replies, rolling his eyes again and turning back to his work. Blaine takes the opportunity to sidle over to the desk next to Kurt, his smirk still on his face.

"I'm serious," he says in a low voice, his eyes trailing to Kurt's mouth. His tongue darts out and wets his lips and Blaine feels something in his stomach that he hasn't felt in quite a long time. Is that... lust? Attraction? Mere craving? He can't tell, though Blaine's not been with someone for a long time now, not since Dalton. Blaine bites his lip and scoots closer, making Kurt's cheeks go a lovely shade of red. "You're cute."

"And you're a teenage delinquent," Kurt replies, pretending that his not interested even though he'd like very much to see this boy without that tacky leather jacket on. He curses himself for the thought, but he can't manage to divert his eyes from his chest, the tight shirt that the stranger is wearing making him blush even redder.

"I prefer 'troubled boy going through a phase'," Blaine replied, and Kurt chuckles.

"I don't even know your name."

"Blaine," he replies, lips pulling into a soft smile as he studies the boy before him closer. He's pale, but not oddly so, and his eyes are the most startling shade of green that he's ever seen in his life. Blaine used to be a romantic, but then when everything changed he just kind of... stopped. He didn't want anything to do with relationships or love; he just wanted one night stands in hotels that smelt of ash from the cigarettes that were smoked.

"Just Blaine?" the boy asks, and Blaine nods.

"Yep... what's your name?"

"Kurt Hummel."

"I think I'll settle on Kurt," Blaine says, reaching out to draw circles on Kurt's desk with his index finger. "Or I can call you Cute if you'd prefer."

Kurt blushed and turned back to his work, causing Blaine to smirk more so. Kurt turned back after a moment, his expression playful. "What do you want, Blaine?"

"I would very much like to put my hands down your pants," Blaine replied truthfully, though he didn't mean for it to come out. Kurt's expression faltered and he blinked at the absurdity of doing something so very dirty with someone he had never even met before. "Sorry," he continued, "I don't usually think before I say."

"I noticed."

"Still want to, though."

Kurt's lips twitched into a slight smile. "You're suggesting intercourse with someone you've only just met."

"I tend to do that a lot," Blaine admitted, almost slightly embarrassed.

"Never would have guessed."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Fine, you want to be woo'd? I'll woo you."

Kurt smirked. "Yeah, right."

"See you later, Hummel," Blaine said with a wave of his hand, standing from the desk to go retrieve his bag. Without a second word, he left the detention room, leaving Kurt alone and very much baffled. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but he went back to his homework and attempted to push slightly dirty thoughts of Blaine out of his head, which didn't work and just caused him to sigh in frustration. Perhaps, he thought, this Blaine kid wouldn't be so bad.


	2. Unknown Number

**A/N: So this story got quite a bit of positive feedback in a matter of hours, so I've decided to continue it! Thanks so much for the support I have already, guys!**

**TellMeTheTruthAboutLove: Thank-you for the feedback! Hopefully you'll stick with me throughout the story.  
Lulu'Gleek'Criss and BilliMonroe: I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter, then!  
Jay Li Matsuda: I'll try and slow it down a tad, thank-you for the advice, I really appreciate it! **

**Without further ado, enjoy this chapter~**

* * *

Sometimes, Blaine Anderson would speak before he really thought of what he was saying – like now, for instance. His mother was speaking harsh words, good and loud enough for Blaine's ears to be aching, chest pounding and eyes watering. He didn't usually cry, Blaine, he was strong and he was, most of the time, independent. He didn't need to be the kind of person that could only express themselves with bawling their eyes out and looking pathetic – he was ruthless, he wouldn't let himself down.

Usually, anyway.

Tonight was an exception.

He had been thinking, on the way home from detention, about how much he'd like to kiss Kurt Hummel's neck and how it'd be kind of nice to introduce the smaller boy to his parents and have them smile at him, accept him. But it was never going to be that way, was it? Because his parents found problems in the perfect, his parents were close-minded and angry people. Why they were angry, Blaine would never know. It wasn't his fault, surely. Or perhaps it was – he was the gay one, he was the one who, in his mother's words, brought 'shame to the Anderson family'.

Blaine had unlocked the door, stepping into a weirdly cold house that he couldn't really call a home at all. Pursing his lips together, he tried to actively avoid his mother, stepping hastily through the front room and past the kitchen, finding his way to the stairs and practically running to his bedroom. He didn't think anyone was home, but he entered his room and there she sat, his gorgeous mother in all her simple business woman glory with her hair worth hundreds of dollars, her manicured nails tapping restlessly on the mahogany bedside table.

When he entered, she looked up, her chocolate brown eyes boring into his own green. He gritted his teeth as his eyes travelled down to the object beside her on the messed bed. His mother looked utterly disgusted, as though she had found a mutilated body underneath his bed or something of the sort – though, Blaine did have a sneaking suspicion that she'd have preferred a dead person in comparison to the male _Zoo_ magazine. Blaine blinked, opened his mouth to apologize but then decided he had nothing to apologize for.

"You shouldn't be in here," he said lowly, his eyes on hers. Her expression didn't change at all; she just stared at him like he was a rotting animal on the side of the road, shit on her god damn shoe.

"You disgust me," the woman hissed, and Blaine let out a bitter laugh.

"You're my mother," he replied in a sing-song voice, though it was thick with sarcasm. "If anything, I should be disappointed."

The woman scowled. "Your father won't be happy."

Blaine snorted with faux laughter. "You should know by now that you can't beat the gay out of me, mother dear," he told her, and that was it. Those were the words that he didn't think about, the words that made his mother angrier than she already was.

The woman stood, her open palm catching the side of Blaine's cheek. He stood in shock, but he guessed he should be used to the harsh treatment by now. His chest heaved as he breathed heavily, jaw locked as he used all the force he had to not hit the horrid woman back. If he started, he may never stop. That's why he boxed – when it was a punching bag, he didn't have to stop. When it was the woman who had abused him since his early teens, the woman who knew he wouldn't fight back, it was another story. How could he fight back, anyway? Though he didn't hate himself for being gay, he had plenty of other reasons. He would just pretend that those reasons were why he had received this treatment from the people who had once called themselves his parents.

Blaine Anderson liked pretending.

She left his room without another word and left him standing breathless in the centre, sweat coating his forehead slowly. He didn't need this, he didn't want this. How could he expect someone like Kurt Hummel to want him when he lived like this, when he didn't even want himself?

Sighing shakily, Blaine flopped onto his bed and stared at his ceiling, the hot tears pricking his eyes, his throat swelling. He didn't realise he was biting his tongue until the iron-like taste assaulted his tastebuds and made him cringe, which sent a tear down the side of his face.

One was all it took.

He turned into his pillow and let out an animal-like howl, pounding his fist over and over into the mattress until, eventually, he felt exhausted and limp and his eyes were burning with anger and tears. After a while, he fell asleep, still in his clothes from the day with his bag beside his bed and his troubles weighing him down.

XX

Kurt Hummel unlocked his front door, exhausted and thinking fast. Since detention, he was torn between being on cloud nine and just... existing, like he usually did. Blaine was gay, sure, but Blaine was also very, very troubled, Kurt could tell that within half a second. The unattended to hair which bounced around the gorgeous – Kurt hated to admit – face of his, the bright green eyes which could have been stunning had it not been for the sadness that they held.

As he walked inside, he found Burt and Carole snuggled up on the couch with Finn on the chair, wincing as the weeknight news began. Kurt greeted his family with a smile on his face and a high pitched 'hello', which was an unusual occurrence. Burt raised his eyebrows curiously. "What's got you in such a good mood, kid?" he asked.

Kurt just smiled softly and slipped into the lounge chair beside Finn's, abandoning his bag at the foot of the chair. He tugged his feet up, holding his knees to his chest as he just looked at his father. "Nothing, why do you ask?" he replied innocently, though his cheeks were reddening ever so slightly. Carole grinned.

"You look ecstatic," she observed, her tone playful.

"Is there a boy?" Burt asked, both curious and protective of his son.

Yes, there was a boy. Yes, he was as gorgeous as the night stars and as intriguing as this month's fashion magazine, but he wasn't exactly Kurt's type... was he? Kurt guessed he should actually date a few people before trying to figure out his type. Pursing his lips together, the boy settled back into the cushions of the chair. "Kind of," he supplied for his family, scrunching his nose in thought. Finn looked eager.

"Who is he?" he asked, looking like an excited puppy. "Do I know him?"

Kurt chewed the inside of his cheek. "Blaine," he said, realizing that he didn't actually know the boy's last name. Well, tickle him pink, he was falling for a nameless stranger. But that wasn't exactly a new thing for him, he guessed. He jumped for Sam Evans with the knowledge that he lightened his hair with lemon and quite literally nothing else.

"Anderson?" Finn asked, his brows pinching. At Kurt's blank look, he said, "Dark hair all curly, green eyes, he wears a leather jacket a lot."

Kurt smiled and nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "That's him."

Wincing, Finn shook his head. "Dude, you don't want to go there," he said, a frown playing on his face. "Seriously, he's bad news, some kind of delinquent."

"Bad boy going through a phase," Kurt corrected, smirking slightly at the words that Blaine had spoken to him some few hours ago.

Burt looked curious as ever now. "A bad boy, huh?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to allow his son to make his own decisions or if he should step in – of course, the last thing he wanted was for Kurt to get hurt, but he believed his son could change anyone into the person they really were, so why not let him have a crack at it? After all, Kurt could end up with someone on his arm, someone to love, and really, that was all Burt wanted for his son.

"I guess," Kurt said. "I don't know him all that well but we met today and he's really cool."

He could see Blaine smirking at this comment in his mind and he shook his head.

"I don't know if it'll go anywhere, though, he just put me in kind of a good mood, that's all."

Good mood was an underestimation of what Kurt was feeling right now.

XX

At eleven that night, Kurt's phone buzzed. He was sitting in bed with a magazine just about falling asleep when it vibrated on his bedside table, and he reached across to grab it.

_Text: Unknown Number  
Hello there, gorgeous. How's coffee tomorrow morning sounding?_

Kurt grinned, immediately knowing who it was. He chewed his lip as he typed his response, erasing it roughly four times before sending:

**_There's a stranger texting me in the middle of the night asking for coffee. It's not looking too good at all._**

The reply came almost instantly and Kurt couldn't help his thudding heart.

_Text: Unknown Number  
I'm a little hurt that you don't realise who this is, Kurt Hummel. Perhaps my first impression was not as appealing as I had hoped._

Kurt continued chewing his lip, taking a few minutes to reply with:

**_Ha, not at all. Of course, I've already forgotten your name. Was it... Blake? Billy? Blaine, perhaps? I'm kidding. Of course, coffee depends on who's buying._**

The Hummel boy took a moment to save Blaine's name to his phone, smirking to himself as he saved it under Blaine Anderson. He quite liked having a gay male's number in his phone, he found.

_Text: Blaine Anderson  
Obviously I'd be buying. Who has ever heard of someone being woo'd after buying their own coffee? I thought you'd be better educated, Kurt._

**_I can't trust a 'bad boy going through a phase' though. I never know if you'd make me buy my own coffee. You might even make me buy yours, too._**

_Text: Blaine Anderson  
Do I look like a guy who isn't a total romantic and wouldn't do anything to make you squeal and fawn over me and a perfect relationship?_

Kurt had to take a moment to breathe when he read those words, smiling widely.

**_Quite frankly, yes you do._**

A moment later, he sent:

**_Lima bean, eight sharp. Don't be late or you don't get a date._**

_Text: Blaine Anderson  
Hah, you're a poet and you didn't know it. Of course I'll be there. See you tomorrow. xx._

As a second thought, Blaine added an 'xx' to his text before hitting 'send'. Kurt grinned at the reply, sending a small text back before turning the lamp beside his bed off and letting himself fall into a rather happy sleep.

**_Night, Anderson. xx. _**


	3. Something On Your Nose

**A/N: Hola amigos! I'd like to thank everyone for the support that this story has gotten. I've reached a lot of favourites, reviews and follows in such a short amount of time and I'm really happy with it! Thanks, everyone! If you have any questions, don't hesitate to PM me or review. **

**ALSO – I try to do each chapter with a Kurt scene, a Blaine scene and a scene where the two are together, but there isn't a particular order of them. In the first two chapters there was Blaine, Kurt, Both, but in this one it's both, Blaine, Kurt. So yes, just thought I'd add that bit there.**

**Without further ado, enjoy this chapter, darlings! Don't forget to review~ x.**

XX

Coffee was good, but Blaine Anderson was better.

Kurt Hummel realised this much when he was seated across from Blaine at a small round table in the Lima Bean, a Grande non-fat mocha warming his hands while Blaine sipped at his medium drip, eyes on Kurt and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he drank. The two had been sitting here for fifteen minutes now, talking like old friends about Dalton and McKinley, things they had come across in their lifetime. They had hit it off quite well, Kurt would think, though the comment about Blaine's hands down his pants stuck to him and he wasn't all that sure that he wouldn't end up being used.

But he was a senior now, and it was about high time he started taking chances, fighting back, learning the ways of the world after escaping from the bubble he lived in. Raising his eyebrows at his company, Kurt set down his coffee cup.

"What are you staring at?" he asked, curious and worried at the same time. Blaine smirked.

"You, obviously," he replied, sarcasm lacing his voice. Kurt rolled his eyes and sipped at his coffee.

"Why, though? Do I have something on my face? Maybe I shouldn't have come here. You did the same thing in detention yesterday. I'm beginning to think you're a psychopath."

"Yes."

Kurt frowned. "Yes?"

Blaine grinned. "Yes, you have something on your nose."

The older boy blushed a deep red and his hand flew to his nose where, sure enough, he wiped some cream from the coffee with a napkin. Oh, this was insanely embarrassing. Perhaps he ought to run away now and never look back – though he was becoming more and more enthralled with Blaine Anderson as their conversations went on and though the boy taunted Kurt, it was all in good heart. Besides, Blaine looked really quite cute when he smirked and smiled, and though it was a rare occurrence, Kurt sure as hell wanted to see some more of that.

"Thanks, Blaine," Kurt replied sarcastically, scrunching his nose. Blaine copied him.

"You look cute when you do that," he said. Kurt wondered how he could sound so nonchalant when he flirted – whenever Kurt had tried, he ended up saying something silly and Blaine would laugh and send a rebuffing comment his way, making Kurt turn as red as a leather chair that he was sitting on. Kurt sighed, and Blaine looked at him curiously. "Why are you sighing? Need more wooing?"

"I don't understand you."

"What's there to not understand?" Blaine asked, eyebrows raised in genuine wonder. He had always thought himself a pretty straightforward, easy to read person. Then again, perhaps it was him trying to take the direct approach that confused people – he was generally easy to read, maybe Kurt was reading past what everyone else saw and could see Blaine for Blaine.

That thought scared the living daylights out of him.

"Everything, Blaine," Kurt replied, eyeing him. "You're so... guileless and outspoken; it's like you don't even care what people think."

"I don't."

"Why?"

"Because I'm over trying to impress people," Blaine told him. He saw no use in lying, because where would that get him? Kurt was smart, Kurt would know. Besides, the first stage of "wooing" was honesty, right?

"Why?" Kurt asked again. He was right in thinking that there was some past or present traumatic experience that would lead Blaine into detaching himself from society and becoming someone that no one even really wanted to be around, and he knew it. So he would get to the bottom of it eventually, whether Blaine liked it or not.

Blaine saw no other way to shut him up.

The dark haired boy sighed softly and stood up; leaning across the table to place his lips against Kurt's in a forceful yet rather passionate kiss. It had been a while since Blaine had kissed anyone and Kurt didn't count Karofsky as his first kiss, so it was good for both of them, really.

The older boy hesitated before melting into the kiss, deciding that it was quite possibly the nicest thing that had ever happened to him. He let his lips move with Blaine's as the other boy ran his tongue against Kurt's bottom lip. Kurt parted his lips, feeling Blaine's tongue against his. It felt nice. It felt... natural. He would say 'that was the best kiss ever', but he thought that statement may have been a little off considering the fact that it was his first and his opinion might have been a tad biased.

His tongue danced with Blaine's a moment longer before someone threw an empty paper cup at the couple, shouting "get a room, pervs" which caused Blaine to smirk as he pulled away. Yep, Kurt could get used to that face.

Blaine didn't sit back down, though; he took his coffee and shouldered his bag, looking amused as he nodded to Kurt.

"I'll see you soon, Kurt," he mumbled, licking his lips before strutting out of the cafe like he owned the world. Though it was only eight thirty, Kurt supposed he should head off to school. Blaine wasn't even walking in the school's direction as Kurt exited the cafe, feeling flustered, hot and cold at the same time and even just a little bit like he was crushing. Were those... butterflies in his stomach? Merlin, he hadn't felt those since Sam Evans had walked into the Glee club.

Clutching the strap of his bag, Kurt headed off toward school, feeling as though he was on cloud nine.

XX

Blaine wasn't sure how he had felt about what just happened. Sure, he had wanted to do that since he'd first laid eyes on Hummel – that boy's lips worked magic, he was positive – but now that it had happened... Blaine kind of... regretted it?

He wasn't a bad guy, really.

In all honestly, the regret was sprouting from the sureness that he felt when he was with Kurt Hummel, no matter how little time they had spent together.

Blaine was sure.

What he was sure of, he didn't know. Was Kurt the one? Impossible to tell at such an early stage of a relationship (this wasn't even a relationship!) of course. He was something, though, that Kurt Hummel. Perhaps that was why Blaine felt guilt and regret. He couldn't promise Kurt the relationship that Blaine knew from first glance that Kurt wanted and deserved. What he could promise was never meeting his parents, rarely seeing each other out of school hours and heated moments in the boy's bathrooms at the school.

The latter wasn't so bad, but the former two options made Blaine cringe. Did he want to put someone through that? As bad as he acted, Blaine was not one to hurt someone on purpose unless they deserved it. Kurt didn't deserve that... Blaine didn't deserve Kurt Hummel, either, and that killed him.

What was it about Blaine Anderson being happy that the world hated so much, huh? What had the teenager done to deserve no mercy whatsoever?

Maybe there was someone up there making sure he suffered for who he was, but it wasn't a choice he had made at all. The bullying, the stares, the remarks, the way he had destroyed everything he had because he couldn't take it anymore.

There was more to Blaine that the people on the outside could see – more than the torture from his peers and the anger that he felt. There was hurt, there was angst, there was everything in between and things that didn't even exist. He used to be so pure, so joyful. He used to sing. Now, he was a broken record, a scratched disk. No use to anyone, nothing.

He blinked back tears of anger as he walked down the path toward nowhere in particular, thinking back to this time last year. September, 2011.

Blaine was a star at Dalton, his voice was magic. Everyone thought he was an angel sent from heaven – he used to, too. He was on the stage one day, happy and energetic and loving his life despite all the hardships, masking the pain he felt with a smile, when it happened.

Someone had stood, he wasn't sure who, but they must have gone to the school Blaine attended before Dalton.

Someone had shouted, he wasn't sure what, but it sounded a lot like "go kill yourself, fag" and that made Blaine extremely enraged.

Someone had thrown something, he wasn't sure what, but it resembled a rotten tomato and smelt of the homeless man down by the cheap hair salon.

And so he snapped.

Blaine Anderson stopped and he stared for a long time into the audience that face him, speaking in hushed whispers that only made him feel worse. No one said 'stop' and no one cared. Some even laughed. And Blaine screamed.

He screamed until his lungs burnt, past the tomato running into his mouth from on his forehead, past the hysterical laughter, past the point of return. And then he ran. He ran from that stage and never looked back. His feet took him so far, so god damn far that he didn't even know where he was. He considered throwing himself in front of a truck or a car or even off a bridge, but he was more scared of death than he was of the bullies.

Yes, the bullies that had followed him to the outskirts of town.

And then they beat him senseless and left him to bleed out on the side of the road, not caring who saw or what may come of Blaine Anderson. He almost died, too, had it not been for the elderly man who had come across him and called the police and ambulance. He was almost kicked out of the hospital although he was in ICU when his parents would not pay, but Cooper came to his rescue and made sure he was nice and patched up.

Then Cooper left again.

Blaine kicked a stone and watched as it bounced along the footpath before rolling down the gutter. That stone reminded Blaine of himself and he had to smirk at that thought. He wasn't a rock at all. Sighing, he headed off toward the outskirts of Lima, deciding he needed a good scream. His days of singing had been over since that day, but his days of screaming had only begun.

XX

Kurt Hummel was on cloud nine.

He sauntered down the halls with a happy-go-lucky expression, humming to himself as he spotted Mercedes and Tina walking toward him. He stopped, turning to go to his locker as he called out, "Hello, ladies" in an awfully cheerful tone. No one had seen Kurt this ecstatic for a while now.

"What's got you in such a great mood?" Mercedes asked, not bothering with greetings. She was curious. Kurt smirked at her and Tina, deciding to keep them both in suspense for a while.

"It's a secret," Kurt chirped, and Tina rolled her eyes.

"In other words, a boy."

Well, that was a bust. _Nice secret keeping, Kurt_, Kurt scolded himself. "Yes, a boy. He kissed me."

The girls squealed and made the boy wince. "Who, who?" they cried, bouncing on their feet.

"Blaine Anderson," he replied, not bothering to slowly introduce them to the idea of Kurt's possible boyfriend.

Mercedes and Tina stopped bouncing, each raising an eyebrow. "He's bad news," Mercedes said, and Tina nodded her head.

"Someone told me that he doesn't even go to detention."

"He's a teenage delinquent."

"A total weirdo."

"I heard that he's crazy."

Kurt blinked at his friends, narrowing his eyes at them. "He is, and I quote, a bad boy going through a phase. Also crazy sexy and he bought me coffee this morning. It was a date, he says."

Mercedes smiled softly.

"We just don't want you getting hurt," Tina said. God, Kurt could have sworn they spoke each other's sentences sometimes. Mercedes nodded in agreement.

Kurt could look after himself.

"While I appreciate your concern, I am, in fact, a grown man who can make his own decisions. I'll fill you in on the details in glee club," he added, sure they wanted to know. He knew those girls better than he knew himself. They grinned.

"Awesome. See you then."


	4. It's So If I Say It's So

**A/N: kjsdghdasf people are supporting this story so much, I love you guys! **

**WARNING: Slight smut in this chapter.**

XX

Kurt Hummel used to think he was positive about what he wanted to do with his life. Since a young age he had said to himself "Broadway, Broadway, and Broadway" and had had no intentions of changing this until now. Now, he sat in the Glee club staring into space, his mind moving fast as Schuester talked, though almost no one listened.

It was his dream, wasn't it? Going to NYADA with his best friend Rachel Berry and actually seeing the world, living in New York and being accepted for who he was rather than bullied for it. Thrown in trash bins. Was that all he was? The kid that was thrown in trash cans and laughed at for being something that not everyone was?

Kurt was sick of it.

He blinked as he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Rachel, smiling warmly at him and asking something about a duet. Shaking his head, he said, "What?" and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"I said we should do our duet together."

"We're doing duets?" Kurt asked, raising his eyebrows. They had done this at the same time last year, too. Maybe, just maybe, Kurt could get the gorgeous Blaine Anderson to sing with him. Their "date" was yesterday and Blaine hadn't heard from him, save for a few rather sassy, flirtatious text messages.

"Yep," Rachel chirped. "Be my partner?"

Kurt chewed the inside of his cheek and furrowed his brows in thought, staring into space again. Would Blaine agree to singing? He wasn't sure. Then again, if he wanted to woo Kurt as badly as he claimed, he'd fall over his feet for the older boy, wouldn't he? Kurt smirked at the thought before a jab on the shoulder from Rachel brought him back to reality. "I'll get back to you on that, Rach," Kurt said quickly before standing, rushing out of the room after a hasty excuse and 'goodbye' to Mr. Schue and the glee club. They weren't doing much, anyway.

What song would he even sing with Blaine? He reached a hand in his pocket and snatched his touch iPod, scrolling though the list of songs quickly, his eyes darting over the words. He had to chuckle to himself at Foreigner's _I Want to Know What Love Is, _because the thought of his high voice and Blaine's deep singing that song together made him cringe. Oh, Rachel Berry would never let him live that down.

He began humming the tune to Foreigner's song, wondering down the corridors before turning into a classroom that was almost always empty and seating himself on a table, eyebrows furrowed as he searched his song list.

And then he saw it.

The song was perfect, really.

He smirked, playing the song a few times before hopping off the table and practically skipping down the corridors in hopes of finding Blaine.

XX

Blaine hadn't been paying attention, walking down the corridors absent-mindedly and chewing on the stick of the lollypop he had just eaten – he had a soft spot for candy, he'd never admit that though. Leafing through a maths textbook (who was he kidding, he wouldn't do the homework anyway) he was rather transfixed in the sums that didn't make sense and so used to the excited chattering of the school kids, and even the hushed whispers of his name, that he didn't bother looking where he was going. Everyone just kind of avoided him, really.

Unsurprisingly, Blaine ended up bumping into someone too transfixed, like he, in their own life. He opened his mouth to swear, the lollypop stick falling from his mouth as he looked up, frowning. "Fu—Kurt? Hey... hi."

Well, that gorgeous face was certainly unexpected – but not unwelcome in the slightest.

Kurt blinked. "I didn't startle you, did I?" he asked. Blaine nodded his head in response and tugged Kurt's sleeve, telling him to walk.

"Yeah, but it was a pleasant surprise I suppose."

"You suppose?" Kurt ask, his tone amused and an eyebrow raised. Blaine smirked.

"Yeah. What's up?"

"I was looking for you. I, uh, wanted to ask you something."

Now it was Blaine's turn to raise an eyebrow. He was curious to say the least.

"Will you sing with me?"

Blaine's heart dropped.

_Sing? Blaine? _

Blaine hadn't sung in a long time unless it was in the comfort of his bedroom, and even then, it was quiet so as not to disturb his mother. Since Blaine had practically been run off the stage, he had found singing... hard? Hard. What if someone overheard him and told him he was utter shit? Or maybe, just maybe, there would be a repeat of the incident... Cooper wasn't here to save him just now. Blaine blinked and swallowed back the lump rising in his throat and the taste of bile.

Sing.

For Kurt, he could at least try.

"Sing what?" Blaine asked, trying not to sound nervous or anything of the sort. Kurt flashed him his iPod screen and Blaine nodded, "I like that song."

Kurt grinned. "Fantastic. Practice at mine after school, I'll text you the address.

XX

They had been "rehearsing" when _it _happened.

Blaine had smirked as Kurt was hitting a note as high as he could, almost shattering the glass in the house. The older boy grinned rather proudly as he finished, his hands dropping to his sides after running through his hair. "I could never do that," Blaine said, his voice too deep for a not like that. Hell, Kurt's voice – Kurt, too – was one in a million, he'd bet no one else could do that, either, and if they could it wouldn't be as sexy as Kurt Hummel made it.

"Of course you can't," Kurt teased with a cheeky smile, making Blaine's heart to back-flips. "Hardly anyone can do that."

"Hardly anyone can look as sexy as you do when hitting a note that high."

Kurt flushed, chewing his bottom lip. Blaine hated when he did that, it always gave him the urge to kiss the boy and most of the time, he had to keep his hands to himself. Kurt was queen virgin and they'd only just met a day or so ago – a bad combination for someone trying to 'get some'. But that wasn't really what Blaine was doing at all.

In all honesty, Blaine enjoyed Kurt's presence. He was a gorgeous guy and sure, Blaine still wanted to grope him like mad, but he was smart and sassy and awesome and everything that Blaine Anderson wanted to be but was not.

It hurt and made him horny at the same time.

Blaine scrunched his nose. "Don't bite your lip like that," he ordered, and Kurt's eyebrows shot up curiously and his lips twitched into an evil-looking grin.

"Like what? This?" he asked before his teeth met his bottom lip again. Blaine's tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"Don't."

"What are you going to do, Anderson?"

Blaine smirked. "Things your daddy doesn't know exist."

Kurt looked intrigued. "Is that so?"

Before he knew it, Blaine was pressed against him, Kurt's back against the wall. His hands twitched to travel to places that hadn't seen the sun, but Blaine restrained himself, moving his lips to Kurt's ear and nipping the lobe. "It's so if I say it's so."

Kurt's hands found their way to Blaine's hips to their own accord and the boy was blushing profoundly, his breath hitching in his throat, "Right."

Their lips met in a heated frenzy, mostly due to Kurt's hand skimming over Blaine's ass, but also caused by Blaine being unable to contain the sheer temptation he felt when in Kurt's presence. The darker haired boy nipped at Kurt's bottom lip, hands on his chest as he felt Kurt's still hovering over his ass. Flush against Blaine, Kurt wasn't entirely sure what was going on. Part of him wanted to stop, knowing that they would soon get a little out of hand and possibly end up under Kurt's covers, but the better half of him screamed about Blaine's imperfect perfection and the way that his kisses made Kurt's heart beat faster than it ever had before.

Soon, Blaine's hands were undoing the buttons of Kurt's shirt and his swollen lips were travelling down the porcelain skin, dropping kisses to his jawbone, neck, collarbone and chest, his tongue darting out and leaving trails on Kurt's pale body. Kurt really was the prettiest thing Blaine had ever seen, he thought, nipping and Kurt and leaving small love-bites on his chest and collarbones. He smirked against Kurt's skin at the thought of the small label – Kurt Hummel, after two nights of flirty text sessions, a coffee kiss and date, was his. His to label, his to mark.

Blaine liked that thought more than he'd ever let on, and Kurt wouldn't tell but he did, too.

Kurt breathed in sharply, hands flying to Blaine's chest as he felt something hard against his thigh. No, no. This was too far, now. He hadn't meant to lead Blaine on, really, but it was all so sudden and so passion-filled that Kurt had had a hard time stopping. All it took for Blaine to back off was a slight push and the boys eyes fell closed as he stepped backwards, breathing hard and cheeks red.

"I'm sorry," Kurt stammered, letting out a breath. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Blaine interrupted, panting. "Really, Kurt. I have a left hand and an imagination, and I'm going home soon."

"You're left handed?"

Blaine grinned before bursting into laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubled over at the sheer innocence of Kurt's question. Trust him, he thought, to pick out the harmless statements in a sentence. "What?" Kurt asked, his eyes widening.

"N-nothing," Blaine choked out, shaking his head as he took a breath, hands on his knees in hopes of steadying himself. "Nothing at all, I promise."

"You're laughing at me," Kurt pouted.

"Yes, I am. Because you're cute," Blaine grinned.

"I'm not, really," he argued for the sake of arguing.

"Are so."

"Go home, Blaine," he quipped cheekily. Blaine gathered his things and headed to the door.

"My pleasure," he said. "Literally, my pleasure," he made a dirty motion with his left hand and smirked before ducking out the door, and Kurt heard him call a goodbye to Burt, whom he had never called "Mr Hummel" like the other people Kurt had brought home. Burt liked him for that reason.

Kurt gave a flushed sigh and flopped onto his bed, the reality of what happened just now hitting him quite hard.

Did he have a ... boyfriend?


	5. Less Than You Deserve

**A/N: Sorry for the time that it took for me to update! I just want to thank everyone for the support and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Read and review, please! xx**

* * *

Of two things, Blaine Anderson was sure. One: he was falling fast and extremely hard. Two: Kurt Hummel probably wouldn't feel the same way he did now when Blaine finally managed to tell him about his... well, his everything.

He wondered if he'd even need to tell the truth about himself – perhaps Kurt wouldn't even stick around that long. Blaine proved time and time again to be hard to get along with, especially on one of his bad days, which seemed to be more frequent nowadays, although he never felt like punching a wall when he was around Kurt, which was probably a good thing. Shame, though, that it wouldn't last.

Blaine sometimes thought that he should just stop making connections with people, because he always grew to care and ended up alone – it had happen time and time again and Blaine liked to think he had come to accept it, not caring, but the truth was that every time someone loved and left him, it left a scar on his heart and it hurt like hell. Sighing, Blaine rolled over in his bed and rubbed his eyes before pressing the 'snooze' on his alarm clock – why did he have it set for a Saturday morning, anyway? The glowing red numbers read _8.00_ and Blaine inwardly cursed himself. Once he woke up, he could never get back to sleep, and his rehearsals with Kurt weren't until 12pm today, and this was much needed since it'd been three days since their last rehearsal – and their steamy make-out session against the god damn wall.

Reluctantly, he heaved himself out of bed and wandered down the hallways into the bathroom. Peering in the mirror, he realised that he looked like total shit. After the fight with his mother last night and the oh-so-lovely beating from his father, Blaine hadn't slept well and bruises riddled every inch of his arms, chest and back already, and he made a mental note not to wear something that would show them. It'd be cold outside, for which Blaine was thankful. At least Mother Nature was on his side.

It didn't take him long to get ready, and he found himself wandering the streets so as to avoid his parents and kill some time. Of course, when Blaine wandered around by himself, his mind tended to do the same thing and soon he was thinking of the future that he would have liked, a future where he could do anything he wanted, be with who he wanted, and not get judged for it. He'd quite like Kurt to be in that future, too, but at this point he wasn't sure that would end up happening. Kurt seemed... nice, yes, but he wasn't sure how the clean cut, perfect boy would react to his past and present, especially considering the horrific events that had mostly shaped Blaine and made him the person he was.

Did he even trust Kurt at this point? He wasn't sure. Kurt seemed to trust him; he probably should have returned that favour, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Although he had every faith in the porcelain boy, he just... couldn't. What was it about him that made him such an... idiot? He sighed again, shoving his hands deep inside the pockets of his trench coat. He didn't want to dwell on it, not now at least.

XX

When the doorbell sounded, Kurt Hummel was downstairs in his room making sure everything was in its place and looked reasonably good. Although he was sure Blaine didn't care what his room looked like, Finn had left it in a mess and he was convinced that it looked terrible and that Blaine would turn away screaming and never come back. Hearing the chiming, Kurt looked up and dropped the shirt he was putting away onto his bed, racing upstairs to beat his father to the door – unfortunately, he didn't beat _Finn _and Kurt winced at the sight of the giant opening the door and smiling awkwardly at an uncomfortable looking Blaine.

"Hi, Finn," Blaine greeted slowly, a questioning look on his features. "What are you...?"

Kurt almost laughed – how had he skipped on the whole 'Finn as a half brother' thing? He was embarrassed to say the least.

"I'm Kurt's brother..." Finn replied, looking rather shocked that the shorter boy didn't know about it.

"Half brother," Kurt chimed in, making his appearance known. Blaine blinked at grinned at Kurt. "His mom married my dad."

Finn rolled his eyes. "I'll leave you two to it, then," he said before lumbering off down the hall and into the kitchen.

When he had disappeared from sight, Kurt shot an awkward glance at Blaine, unsure how to greet the other boy. Did he greet him with a kiss, like boyfriends did? Or were they not actually boyfriends? Oh, hell, he didn't know. Blaine chewed his lip. "Can I kiss you?" he asked rather suddenly, and Kurt blushed deeply.

"Suppose so," he replied, smirking a little. Blaine grinned and grabbed the other boy by the waist, pulling him close before catching his lips in a soft kiss. They didn't even notice Burt practically run down the hall so as to avoid interrupting and making things awkward. After a moment, Kurt broke away, smirking some. "We should go downstairs and rehearse."

Blaine gave a reluctant nod and closed the front door, readjusting his bag over his shoulder. "Right, we should go do that."

The two made their way downstairs to Kurt's room, where Blaine placed his bag beside Kurt's bed and plopped down, avoiding the perfectly ironed shirt laid out neatly on the bed. "Are you sure I can even do this?" he asked. "I'm not even in that club thing."

Kurt gave a small snort of laughter. "That club thing? You mean the Glee club," he corrected, and Blaine rolled his eyes playfully. "Mr. Schue will be fine with it, I already talked to him, promise."

"Yeah, alright."

"You ready to practice, then?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow. Blaine nodded, and shortly, they began singing their song.

XX

Once Blaine had left at around three in the afternoon, Kurt found himself wandering around his house, unsure what to do. Hungry, he went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, peering inside, too enveloped in what he was doing to hear his father come in behind him. "Kurt?" Burt asked, and Kurt started, hitting his head on the fridge and cursing quietly.

"Yes?" he half-grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

"You didn't tell me Blaine was your boyfriend."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, hesitating before saying, "He's not, really..."

His father raised his eyebrows, looking rather annoyed at that statement. "What, so you guys are doing some kind benefits thing? Is he playing with you, Kurt?"

A sigh escaped the teenage boy's lips, and he shook his head. "We barely even know each other, dad."

"People who barely know each other don't make out and... and sing solos and go to each other's houses and stuff."

"Dad..."

Burt shook his head, cutting his son off with the words, "Don't settle for anything less than you deserve, Kurt," before he walked out of the kitchen. Kurt sighed again, knowing his father was right.


	6. You Did It

**A/N: ASJKFHGGUDF, thank you guys so much! 22 reviews, woo! **

**This is the performance chapter, and I wasn't entirely sure how to set out the actual singing. This chapter is also FILLED to the brim with angst that makes my heart hurt. Gah! Do not want. Anywho, the set out of the music is pretty basic, but in case you get confused:**

**Writing here...**

**_...Followed by lyrics in italic._**

**And that's how it's formatted. I'd love some feedback on the set out, so if you guys have improvement suggestions for that, let me know thanks!**

**And now for the replies to reviews – yay!**

**BilliMonroe: thank you for all the reviews, it really makes my day!**

**Everyone else – thank you for being such supportive readers and reviewing my work. It means a lot and really keeps this story going. Enjoy (and cry over, if I've done this right...) this chapter and please continue reviewing. I love you guys!**

* * *

To Blaine's dismay, Monday came quicker than usual. The weekend passed by in a rush and since Saturday at Kurt's house, the two boys hadn't rehearsed. Kurt was convinced that it was perfect. Blaine, however, wasn't so sure. It'd been almost a year since he had sung, almost a year since anyone had the ability to judge him as harshly as they could when he was standing before them belting out a song that meant everything to him. He had always felt so strong on stage – now it was more of a stripped bare feeling that made his stomach churn and his head pound, it made his heart ache and his mind whiz at speeds faster than light. It made him yearn for the days where he wasn't an outcast and he wasn't the boy that had been left on the side of the road to die.

Not that many people had known about the hate crime – Blaine's father had it covered up nicely, and the stories that were printed claimed that Blaine was the victim of hit and run. Blaine always snorted at the thought. Hit and run would have been less painful, less humiliating. It wouldn't have destroyed every inch of self-worth that he had, made him feel useless.

And now, standing in the middle of the choir room with eyes expectantly on him, he felt that gut-wrenching feeling yet again. Looking over at Kurt, an expression that could only be described as utter pain was written on Blaine's face. Did he really want to do this? Kurt, he had found out, wasn't just some casual shag that'd leave Blaine numb and searching for a cigarette, albeit it did start out that way. No, it was much more now, and Blaine wasn't sure he could handle 'much more' – neither could his family, he knew that much. His hand instinctively moved to hover over the sleeve covering his right forearm and he could almost feel the bruise pulsate under his shirt.

Kurt shot Blaine a supportive smile and leaned in to his ear as if the rest of the glee club wasn't even there. "You sure you want to do this?" he asked quietly, and Blaine felt his heart jump into his throat. Surprisingly, the boy did have _some_ pride left, and he couldn't let that diminish right before Kurt's eyes. He'd do this, although every part of him wanted to run off and not look back. The younger boy gave a nod and pressed his lips together, turning to face the crowd of expectant teenagers. Kurt grinned and gave a nod to the band behind them.

Beginning the song, Kurt let his eyes travel around the room as he looked at each of the people.

_"Say, won't you stay?  
We can talk about nothing at all  
or sit here and make up the words  
as we go along."_

Blaine noticed how small the choir room was. He noticed how many people were looking at him. He noticed how thick the air was, but he managed to sing his first few lines, though choked and sounding like they belonged to a first timer.

_"The games, we could play  
maybe silently write us a song  
quietly shout from the rooftop  
that we don't belong."_

For the chorus, both boys sung, Blaine slowly settling into the song as a small smile crept onto his face.

_"They told me maybe he's crazy  
a little like you  
everyone said you were nothing but trouble  
and all that I know is that I've never been here before  
and no, I'll never leave if it's alright with you  
dreaming of oceans while jumping in puddles  
all of my life I pretend you were there by the door."_

Blaine finished the chorus with the final line, closing his eyes and letting the music flow freely from his throat as he sung.

_"I don't need to pretend anymore."_

Kurt smiled at their audience, picking up where Blaine left off.

_"And it hurts to know  
there was somebody out there  
as strange and as beautiful as you  
and if I'd known sooner..."_

Blaine chewed his lip as Kurt sang, having eyes only for the boy before him. He thought it was kind of strange, how just a simple song could make him realise everything he'd ever been missing. When Kurt finished his line, Blaine joined in for the final chorus.

_"They told me maybe he's crazy, a little like you  
everyone said you were nothing but trouble  
and all that I know is that I've never been here before  
and no, I'll never leave if it's alright with you  
dreaming of oceans while jumping in puddles  
all of my life I pretend you were there by the door  
I don't need to pretend anymore..."_

As the song finished, the New Directions stood and grinned and Blaine could feel his cheeks radiate enough heat to melt the ice-caps. "Well done!" Schue cried, clapping his hands furiously along with the rest of the room. Kurt beamed and Blaine felt sick to his stomach, but he had done it. He had triumphed above himself and he felt a strange sense of pride fill him so quickly that he could have sworn he was close to bursting. "You did it," Kurt cried, flinging his arms around the other boy, and Blaine nodded, not really coherent by this point.

He had done it.

**XX**

Kurt was happy, madly so. He clutched Blaine's hand as they walked to the parking lot, the sun beginning to set over the school car park. He guessed that it was roughly six in the evening and the two were running late because Rachel and Finn's duet had taken forever to get organised – they had used props, though Kurt wasn't surprised by this at all. Blaine was slightly put-off. "You were great today, you know," Kurt told Blaine as they approached his car. Blaine had been so fixated with everything that was going on, he hadn't realised the time.

_Shit... shit fuck shit. Dad... he's going to kill me._

He snatched his hand from Kurt's grasp and the other boy blinked in surprise. "What's wrong?"

Blaine's eyes widened. "What? Nothing's wrong. I just have to go, that's all. See you around."

But Kurt wasn't having any of that. Burt's words echoed in his head, and he needed to set things straight. As Blaine turned, the older boy reached out and grabbed his arm, surprised when Blaine yelped – he hadn't grabbed that hard, had he? Jesus, he was worried now. Had he hurt him? Surely not... Kurt's strongest punch couldn't injure a fly; his grab for an arm wouldn't have done any damage. In all honesty, he was surprised that Blaine felt anything in the first place. "Crap, I didn't hurt you did I?" Kurt asked, worry dripping from his words.

The Anderson's eyes darkened and he frowned, angry. "No – just leave it. I'll catch you later, Kurt."

"Blaine, show me your arm," Kurt said slowly, and before Blaine knew what had happened, his sleeve was up around his elbow and Kurt was gasping in surprise, looking at him as though he were some kind of injured show animal. "How did that happen?" Kurt asked quietly, and Blaine growled.

"I said leave it," he half-shouted, feeling the worry setting in the pit of his stomach. "Everyone gets bruises. S'not a big deal."

Kurt knew he was lying.

"Tell me the truth, Blaine," he almost whispered, his voice delicate and his words chosen with care. He didn't want to anger Blaine, certainly not scare him off, either. "Was... was it your parents? Did they...?" He didn't even need to finish, the look on Blaine's face said it all. In his anger, Blaine shoved the boy against the car.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whimpered, though his words didn't mean physically. "Please, drop it."

Kurt could see the tears in Blaine's eyes, his bottom lip trembling; he could practically hear his heart racing. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, and Blaine's fist met the car door in anger.

"Don't – don't talk to me, Kurt. Don't text me. Leave me alone."

And with that, Blaine took off down the street toward his home where hell awaited. Kurt was left blinking, tears in his own eyes.

**XX**

As soon as he arrived home, Blaine was met by the angry fist of his father and questions demanding to know where he was, who he was with. It wasn't their business and Blaine was fuming. "Don't touch me!" he screeched at his father, who was rather taken aback by the outburst. Without giving him time to react, Blaine had run off into his room and slammed the door, locking it.

What was he supposed to do now? In a few seconds, the world Blaine had struggled to build had fallen and he had nothing. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to smile at and no one to dream about – it hurt, really, like a knife in the chest, like all the life was slowly being drained from him. It made him feel weak, it made his chest ache and it made his head pound. Frustration and fear ran through his body like a poison, draining his energy. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't fight the anger. He was destined it seemed to be miserable and lonely. Every time something good came along it was destroyed – imagine if he had let this 'thing' that he and Kurt shared go on even longer! Even after just a week of knowing the older boy, Blaine was a wreck. He couldn't see straight, couldn't think right.

It hurt.

**XX**

When Kurt arrived home, Burt was waiting for him in the living room. "How did the duet go?" he called to Kurt. Carole opened her mouth to ask about Finn, but Kurt cut her off.

"Ice cream with Rachel," he muttered, walking downstairs to his room and flopping face-down on his bed. How had something so wonderful turned to shit in just a few seconds? He wasn't sure how it had happened... everything was a blur. He didn't even notice Burt come in and seat himself on the edge of the bed beside Kurt.

"Did something happen, Kurt?" he asked, and his son sat up.

"Blaine and I had a fight."'

It wasn't long before the words bubbled over like water in a steaming pot, and Kurt was soon choking back sobs and wiping his eyes, mumbling everything so quickly that Burt almost had trouble hearing what he was saying. The bit about the bruises, that made the man blink. Of course, Burt couldn't understand how someone could detest their own child, hate them with such passion that they would lay a hand on them and scar them. He felt sad, to say the least, for Blaine. Wasn't this everything he stood against? He yearned to help – the man had a good heart, and Kurt knew his father would feel something for Blaine. Really, Kurt was just like his father – compassionate, caring... unable to let go without a fight.

"Kurt..." Burt started, seeing the longing look in his son's eyes. "I don't know what you want me to do... it's not like we can just let Blaine crash on the couch without his parent's permission."

But that was just it – they could. Now, it was just a matter of getting Blaine to come around.


	7. Knight In Distress

**To those following this story, I'm so, so sorry about the unexpected stop in updates. It's been a while and, truth be told, I hit a lull. Something in me just could not write, and it sucked. But I'm back with another chapter, and thank-you so much for still sticking with me and my crappy updating! I love you guys! Enjoy~ :P**

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Blaine had known all along that Kurt Hummel was far too good for him and that he didn't deserve him, not at all. Now, the teenage boy was sat on his bed, his phone in his hand as a blank screen stared back at him. He was tempted, really, to text Kurt and apologize and tell him how much he wanted him in his life, but how could he? That would be selfish – so, so selfish. Blaine couldn't do that; he couldn't put Kurt or his family in danger like that. He couldn't put himself in danger like that.

It had been three days now, three days since Blaine had shoved Kurt away in anger and told him not to speak to him. Kurt, of course, hadn't listened to a word Blaine said. There had been numerous phone calls and text messages, all involving the words "let me help you" or "please talk to me". But Blaine couldn't. He sighed as he lent against the headboard of his bed, hurriedly navigating through his phone and searching for Kurt's number. He clicked "message number".

_Kurt, I'm sorry. I want you to be able to help me, I do. But there are certain things that I cannot drag you into. I'm sorry. It was never meant to go this far. –Blaine. _

Blaine deleted the message and cursed himself for being so stupid.

Downstairs, he could hear his father yelling, his mother making weak attempts at protesting and his brother on the television. Tonight, he realised, would be a very, very long night.

**XX**

The first thing that Kurt Hummel had in mind for Thursday night was busting Blaine out of the prison that he called a "home". It would be hard – definitely, but Burt was (somewhat) supportive of what Blaine would call a suicide and Finn was more than eager to help out, seeing as he felt like it was a video game. Kurt, more than once, reminded him that this was not, in actual fact, a level of his Mario games where they were saving the princess, but it was real life, however much Kurt didn't want to admit that he liked the idea of him being a prince and Blaine being... well, a knight in distress or something.

Of course, when Kurt did something, he always did it the right way. Right now he was dressed in tight black jeans, an old-fashioned black turtleneck and a black beanie, as was Finn, who kept tugging at the neck of his sweater because it was practically choking him to death. He also looked very, very odd without his usual baggy t-shirts and jeans. It was like another person. Kurt smirked at the obvious discomfort, then immediately felt bad for finding joy in his step-brother's pain. With a chuckle, he shrugged off Finn's worried glance (not for what they were about to do, but because he knew that if Rachel saw him wearing this horrid outfit, he'd probably be lectured on the importance of looking good). "Time to go," he said, too cheerful for his own taste. Finn winced and Burt sighed.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Kurt's father asked, though he already knew the answer. Kurt gave a hard nod.

"Yes."

Of course it was.

Even if he wasn't falling madly hard and crazily fast for a certain Anderson, he was sure that he would be doing this for him anyway. He'd do it for any of his friends, really. With a small sigh, Burt started the car, the dread setting in the pit of his stomach as hard as a rock. Tonight, he realised, would be a very, very long night.

**XX**

Blaine, like usually, was lying in bed when the taps began. Soft at first before growing louder as Blaine frowned to himself, trying to comprehend who could have been throwing pebbles at his window. Kurt, of course, was down below with an anxious look on his face. The dark-haired boy slowly got out of bed and made his way to the window, lifting the hatch and peering outside, down below, where Kurt Hummel stood clad in his classical burglary outfit. "Kurt," the boy hissed, though there was no venom in his tone, just longing. "What the hell are you doing?"

Kurt beamed up at him. "It's a rescue mission," he whispered back, and Blaine bit back the smile that tried to creep onto his face, stifling it with thoughts of his father. Meanwhile, Kurt was having a little bit of trouble dealing with the rather toned chest of the Anderson boy and he almost wished they had more decent light so that he could admire every single inch of Blaine Anderson's body. "Pack some stuff," Kurt ordered, "Finn will catch you when you jump down."

Blinking, Blaine wasn't sure that this was such a good idea. Running away seemed awesome and he'd love to be in Kurt's house, doing nothing but really _being_ with Hummel and running his fingertips over his soft skin and – _Blaine, focus_ – but his father kept creeping into his mind and caused him to feel uneasy.

The butterflies in his gut had turned to vultures, circling around inside him and waiting for him to become overcome with guilt and hurt so that they could eat him from the inside out. "Hurry up!" Kurt urged from below. Blaine could see an uneasy Burt and a fidgety Finn, but most of all, he could see a wide-eyed, caring, beaming, lovely, wonderful Kurt Hummel below wanting to take him away from the crap that he lived in to some magical faraway land where there was only ever goodness and sometimes even a shirtless Kurt. Blaine bit his lip.

"Give me a second," he called down. He found himself relieved that his father had the television up so loud that the whole of Lima could, most likely, hear it. Turning, he wondered what things he needed to take with him. He doubted he would be staying long at all. Pressing his lips together, he threw a few clothing items, deodorants and his toothbrush into a bag, hesitating before throwing it down to Kurt. The boy grinned as he caught it.

"Now you!" he called, and Blaine blinked. Okay... he was absolutely terrified. Not of heights, but of the fact that it was Finn Hudson that would be catching him. Well... at least he was the quarterback, right? The boy had to have some level of skill. Without a moment's hesitation, Blaine (still very much shirtless and wearing only his Captain America boxers) sat himself on the windowsill, turning onto his stomach to lower himself down slowly. The last thing he saw before he dropped was his mother walking into his room. She didn't howl for him to come back, she didn't call for his father. All she did was give him a long, sad look before mouthing "I'm sorry" as Blaine let go of the window sill.

**XX**

He landed right on top of Finn Hudson.

The male howled in protest, pushing Blaine off as he lay on his back in the grass. "Christ, Blaine, you could have given me some warning," he grumbled, and Blaine looked perplexed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and Finn scrunched his nose, opening his mouth to reply as Kurt cut him off.

"We need to go," he hissed, noticing Blaine's light flickering off. If he ever returned, Blaine made a promise to himself – thank your mother. At least she tried.

Blaine stood, helping the giant beneath him up before hesitantly heading to Burt's car. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, but the only word he could manage was pathetic 'sorry's over and over again, and Kurt felt his heart sink. Oh, he wanted to fix this boy, because no one should have felt the way that Blaine Anderson felt, even in breaking free. In no time, Kurt had shoved the two other teenage boys into the car and Burt had greeted Blaine, who replied with, "Sorry," again which made him shoot a worried glance in Kurt's direction. Kurt shook his head.

"He's fine," the boy promised. Burt wasn't sure.

**XX**

Blaine settled in nicely, really, though he was quiet and scared looking, which made Burt feel like he'd taken in a stray dog. He was fed, watered, and put to bed on the couch in Kurt and Finn's room. Finn, feeling overwhelmed, stepped out of the room to watch the late-night X-Men cartoons that were always repeated, which gave Kurt the time to sneak over to the couch with a concerned look on his face. "Blaine?" he squeaked, and bloodshot, dark eyes shot open as Blaine tried not to panic. Seeing Kurt's face, he settled and sat up, wrapping the thick blanket around his frame although he was now in sleepwear and the nights were getting warmer.

"Kurt?" he asked, though he knew the answer. It was just nice to hear his voice, Blaine guessed. Kurt, however, couldn't recall a time when he had seen Blaine looking so... frail, scared and hurt.

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

Was he okay? Blaine didn't think he was. In response, the boy shook his head weakly, causing Kurt to give a sad sigh and tug away Blaine's blanket. He made room on the couch for himself by rearranging some pillows and eventually, Blaine was huddled in his arms like a tiny, frail puppy, looking at him with his brown eyes wide and a miserable, soft smile. "I'm not okay."

And that was when it happened – the tears that had been prickling the back of Blaine's eyes like a thousand thorns spilled over his lids, slipping down his cheeks in fat, salty tears that left wet marks on Kurt's flannelette pyjamas as he held Blaine's shaking body, the other boy's fingers hopelessly clutching at the expensive wear that Kurt didn't care was getting ruined. All he cared for, at the moment, was Blaine Anderson, the beaten, broken boy in his arms.


	8. I Love You

**WARNING: Smut is the main focus of this chapter. Don't read if you're not comfortable.**

**A/N: Thanks everyone for your support! Don't forget to review, it keeps me motivated! I'd really like feedback on this chapter because it took me so, so long to write, and I'm really happy with it. But what do you guys think? Is their relationship rushed? Should I put it on hold for a while? Or is it okay? I'm anxious, feed me reviews!–Much love, Charlie.**

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The night that Blaine arrived at Kurt's, he had a dream – or rather, a nightmare. His father was chasing him, wildly screaming and waving his fists and threatening to do things to Blaine that made the teenager wake up with a startled howl only to have Kurt wake up just as quickly and tighten his grip around Blaine's frame, holding him closer and whispering that everything would be okay and that nothing bad was going to get him because Kurt was here. Kurt was here.

Those words, for whatever reason, were enough to calm Blaine down. By the time the next weekend rolled around, Blaine's waking in the middle of the night only happened twice during the nights at the most. He guessed that a week and a bit of waking up shaking and sobbing next to the perfect Kurt Hummel would eventually prove to be "curing". Burt and Carole were worried, though, because they weren't sure that having someone's abused teenage son stay at their house was a good idea, even though they wanted desperately to just keep Blaine around – they loved the kid, they really did. It made it hard, though, supporting yet another teenage boy and wondering when his parents were going to come knocking.

One day, though, Blaine and Kurt were alone down in the bedroom alone, and Kurt was close to Blaine, so close that the younger boy could smell the strawberry in Kurt's hair, the coconut on his skin, and it smelt... exotic, lovely... he'd definitely like to wake up to this more often. It was a Saturday, and this marked the ninth day that Blaine had been staying here... the ninth day that none of his family had cared enough to say "Let's go find Blaine soon."

It hurt.

When he woke, Blaine pressed his lips together and wrinkled his nose. Nothing had changed at all and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. In his arms was Kurt, still perfect in slumber. He wasn't sure when their roles had been reversed – he could have sworn they fell asleep with Kurt holding him – but he didn't really mind. Carefully, he slipped the boy from his grasp and crawled over him, off the couch. What was he to do? He felt... alone, even with Kurt at his side. Peering over at the clock beside Kurt's un-slept in bed, he read that it was almost one in the afternoon. What a waste of a day, Blaine thought, scoffing slightly.

He heard Kurt stir and turned, seeing the porcelain boy's eyes flutter open delicately. Blaine would swear that he always looked like he was acting in a movie – he had one of those faces, he thought. "Morning, Kurt," Blaine mumbled, stretching his arms. "Or afternoon, I guess."

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Afternoon?" he asked, yawning. "What time is it?"

"One," Blaine answered with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"What a waste of a day."

"That's what I thought."

Kurt dragged himself from the bed, moving to wrap his arms around Blaine's waist, resting his head on the other boy's shoulder. Blaine stared absently at the wall, causing Kurt to frown slightly with concern. "What's wrong?" he asked, chewing his bottom lip. Blaine hesitated before answering.

"I just feel like shit. Why has no one come for me yet?"

"You want them to come for you?"

"No. But it'd be nice to know that they gave enough fucks to come find me. I could be dead right now and they don't care."

Kurt winced at the words, tightening his grip around the other boy's waist and resting his cheek on Blaine's back. "I'm sorry, Blaine," he said, wishing that there was something more that he could say, something that would make Blaine smile and forget about his family, because there was someone who really did care for him right here in front of him... he just wished he could prove that.

**XX**

That night, Burt mentioned something to Kurt about taking Carole out for their anniversary. Finn was at Rachel's preparing for the duet that they were singing in the Glee club, and Kurt and Blaine were alone. Blaine, exiting Kurt's en-suite in nothing but a towel, ran a hand through his damp hair as he looked at Kurt, who hadn't noticed him enter the room. The boy looked perfect, really, his face twisted in concentration as his eyes skimmed over the words of his book. A small smile lifted Blaine's lips as Kurt finally noticed him, looking up with a surprised expression. "I didn't know you were done," he mumbled, fighting against his eyes, which were trying to drift down to Blaine's exposed torso, the sculpted shoulders, the water droplets on his chest.

The younger boy nodded, moving over to the foot of the bed and leaning against the backboard, back to Kurt. Porcelain's eyes moved to Blaine's shoulder blades, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn't ever recall seeing someone so... beautiful. Perfect was another word that he could have used.

"Was the shower nice?" Kurt choked out, and Blaine turned to him, looking amused.

"Look at you, getting all caught up in your words." Kurt flushed red and Blaine smirked.

"Back to your old self, I see," Kurt grumbled. Blaine just laughed, taunting the older boy. "Screw you, Blaine."

Kurt's tone, though, wasn't at all angered or sarcastic. It was more... suggestive. Blaine turned to him, his thick eyebrows raised in questioning. Kurt just smirked and returned to his book. Clenching his jaw, Blaine turned and reached for his boxers, pulling them up under the towel before letting the fluffy white thing fall to the floor. He could feel Kurt's eyes on his back, burning into him like a red-hot iron, leaving a mark on his skin for all to see. He would proudly be Kurt's if it meant just one night... one night with Kurt Hummel all to himself.

When Blaine turned around, Kurt's eyes were fixed on him, shooting him an intense, longing gaze that screamed frustration and lust. Blaine licked his lips, biting down hard – so hard that he drew blood and winced. A small smile crossed Kurt's lips and he gingerly placed the book down on the bedside table, crawling over to the end of the bed where Blaine was standing. "You're bleeding..." he said softly, lifting a thumb to the boys lip and wiping it gently across. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because of you," Blaine answered quietly. What else could he say?

"Me?"

"Yes you, who else would it be? It's always you."

"Why me?" Kurt asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Blaine smiled softly.

"I don't know," was all he could say, and Kurt smiled. "I don't think I'll ever know."

That was when Kurt leaned in and pressed his lips to Blaine in a soft, passionate kiss that seemed to linger long after he had pulled away, a shy smile lifting his lips. But Blaine wanted more, he couldn't sit there and be in Kurt's company any longer without really tasting him, feeling him, and it was a physical yearning that he had that made his heart beat fast, aching at the mere sight of Kurt, at the mere feel of Kurt's lips against his. Blaine stared into the boy's eyes for a moment, blinking before he pressed his lips to Blaine's again, his heart racing as the passion flowed.

Blaine moved so that he was on the bed, his body pressed flush against Kurt's, hands on his sides and nails digging lightly into flesh. The kisses grew faster, hotter, more passionate than ever as Kurt's hands traced every line, every concave and convex, every shape, sending shivers up Blaine's spine each time he found somewhere new to explore. He bit down on the older boy's lip, slender fingers reaching to tear the t-shirt over Kurt's head, and this time, the boy didn't stop him. Blaine's lips broke from Kurt's, travelling down his neck to his collarbone, sucking lightly on the pale skin and leaving red marks, branding him and claiming him as Blaine's own._ Mine, mine, mine._ The word ran amuck in Blaine's mind as his teeth grazed the skin slightly.

Kurt gave a small moan, pressing his hips against Blaine's and gasping at the friction. One hand gripped Blaine's shoulder while the other sat at the base of his neck, nails digging harshly into flesh as hands moved hastily to remove the little clothing that each boy was wearing. "Blaine," Kurt panted, and Blaine's lips broke contact with Kurt's neck, the boy expecting to have to stop. Instead, Kurt looked to Blaine with eyes wide, filled with longing. "I want you."

Blaine needed no more encouragement. He removed his boxers, quickly followed by Kurt's, who melted under Blaine's touch like a candle to flame. When he was on his hands and knees, palm-fulls of the sheet between his fingers, Blaine placed a trail of kisses along his spine, treasuring the taste of his skin, the way he felt against his lips. He savoured every kiss like it would be his last, because this wasn't like all the other times, this was Kurt Hummel and this meant something, something real that he couldn't describe, something that couldn't measure to the stuffy, cigarette smelling hotel room nights with strangers who bought Blaine drinks.

Carefully, slowly, Blaine entered Kurt with a strangled moan that fell from his lips delicately in a voice like silk. Kurt bit his lip hard, letting out a gasp as Blaine's hips rocked against his, as Blaine panted in his ear and occasionally nipped his earlobe or even ran his hands over Kurt's body, remembering every little detail that he could before this moment was over, before he hadn't any time left to remember it. His hips moving in sync with Kurt's, their choked gasps and heavy breathing, their moans and the warm feelings that coated them from head to toe, the feelings that spread all over them and made them swear they were flying.

It didn't last long, but in Blaine's mind, it went almost for forever. He spent all the time in the world kissing Kurt's back, the nape of his neck, leaving small love bites here and there for the boy to discover in the morning. He spent hours after kissing and nibbling the skin, whispering sweet nothing's in Kurt's ear and just... being with him. It was beautiful and it was the best thing that had ever happened to Blaine Anderson, because good things never happened to Blaine Anderson. Afterwards, Kurt lay with his head on Blaine's chest, his feet tangled with the other boy's.

"Kurt?" Blaine mumbled after a long silence.

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?"

The clock read something around 2am.

"Yes."

Blaine hesitated, his throat going dry. He had never said this before, not to anyone. And although it did feel right, he wasn't sure he was ready. But then again, Blaine didn't know what ready felt like. What was it like to be really sure? To love someone so much that you knew, and you never ever did anything else but know? Blaine couldn't imagine the closure that feeling something like that would bring, finally knowing who you were and who your soul mate was and who you were always supposed to be with, knowing who was supposed to beat the bullies away, who was supposed to beat the bullies away and hold hands with you while you cried and tell you that they would be there despite your flaws and the things you hated about yourself.

"What is it, Blaine?"

The younger boy had gotten so lost in his thoughts... "I love you."

Kurt was silent.

After a moment, a hand reached for Blaine's. "I love you too, Blaine."

Blaine thought that this must be what forever felt like.


	9. Wake Up To Nothing

**A.N: Hi, guys. Sorry I haven't updated in a while! I guess I lost the muse for a bit there. But here's another chapter, and here's to semi-regular updates from now on.**

The lie fell from his lips easier than Blaine Anderson expected.

"I don't love you, Kurt, I lied."

Kurt looked at Blaine with disbelief, eyes scanning his room and eyeing up Blaine's packed bags. A lump formed in his throat but he wouldn't let himself cry. "Blaine, don't leave. Please."

"All I wanted was to bed you. I did it. So I'm going home."

Jesus, Kurt thought bitterly, he's fucking dedicated. But he wouldn't – couldn't – take it. Because Blaine needed him and as much as Kurt didn't want to admit it, he needed Blaine. His life wasn't all that terrible before the scruffy teenager had entered, but it had sure as hell improved. His relationship with Burt had skyrocketed thanks to Blaine's incredibly douche-baggy parents and the bullying at school had stopped at just the _rumour_ that Blaine and Kurt were dating. Not to mention that Blaine was the best thing since sliced bread.

Kurt hadn't ever realised how beautiful Blaine was until last night. His eyes were a deep hazel unlike none other he'd ever seen before and the skin around his mouth was dotted with rustic stubble, giving him a slight bad-boy look that went well with the leather jackets and cigarettes he constantly smelled of. Though Kurt had never really liked the smell of the 'death-sticks', it smelled right on Blaine mixed with his cheap cologne and the tiny bit of hair product he used to tame his wild curls. He loved it.

He hadn't stopped staring at Blaine since he'd said those horrible words and the careless expression on Blaine's face just made it even worse for him. "How could you do that to someone, Blaine?"

"You're easier than I expected." His voice didn't even waver.

"I don't believe this, it's not true."

Blaine gave a smirk, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, it is."

With that, the ragged teen reached down and grabbed the two tiny bags he'd brought to Kurt's and placed one over each shoulder. He reached a hand into his pocket and grabbed a packed of Marlboro cigarettes and a lighter. Clutching it within his slender fingers, he pushed past a stunned Kurt and walked through his bedroom door, Kurt finding that he didn't have the energy to go after him. He swallowed though his throat remained thick. His head pounded and his heart ached. How could Blaine do that after last night? "I love you," he had said, and the sincerity coating his voice could have only been real, Kurt was convinced of that. So how could he say with such a straight face that none of this was real?

The teen drew in a shaky breath before biting down on his shaky lips. He moved to his bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress and burying his face in his hands. This wasn't happening, not now, not after everything they'd gone through. There had to be something else…

**XXX**

Blaine Anderson sighed and walked down the footpath of Kurt's street, the cigarette doing nothing to numb his aching heart. Alright, so the expression on Kurt's face had shattered him and the only way he could have walked away just now was because he was a damn good actor – Blaine had once lived to break hearts. Now he didn't really want to live at all. All the things he'd ever told Kurt ran through his mind and made his head hurt and in desperation for it to stop, he raised the cigarette to his lips again and took a long drag, holding the smoke in until his lungs begged for fresh air. The spindles of smoke left his lips slowly, desperately moving toward the air for freedom as they searched for a breeze to take them.

He couldn't help but wonder; would he ever feel like that? Free? Blaine craved a happy smile more than anything and Kurt had given it to him, but he couldn't do it anymore. His family were insane and Blaine was a ticking time bomb – his father was out to get him and the last thing that Blaine wanted was Kurt to get hurt because of his insane family. His father had messaged him last night after Kurt had fallen asleep and it had scared Blaine more than anything else had.

_I'll kill him, Blaine. I know where he lives. Come home or I'll kill him._

The worst part was that Blaine really didn't know whether his father really would lay a hand on Kurt or not. He'd stood and gone to the window and sure enough, a dark silhouette stood on the curb across the street, eyes up in the direction of Kurt's room. It scared the hell out of Blaine. With a shaking chin, he backed away from the window. He could imagine his father's smirking face as he drew a finger across his neck in a menacing gesture. A few more steps back and Blaine almost tripped over his bag and the figure gave a wave and started to walk away. Kurt stirred.

So Blaine did what any rational person would do, really – he packed up his things and claimed that everything he had ever said to Kurt was a lie. Kurt was chasing a fading lie, and Blaine was such a good actor that he had almost convinced _himself_ that most of their relationship was fake. Oh, Kurt would definitely be better off without him. With Blaine by his side, there was danger and anger and threats and how could they be happy with that, anyways? Blaine couldn't let himself but someone so beautifully incredible in danger. He almost cracked a smile at the reminder of the book that he'd read in his sophomore year: _To Kill a Mockingbird._ Yes, he thought, it was definitely a sin to kill a mockingbird. And Kurt Hummel was one hell of a mockingbird.

Blaine just hoped that Kurt still knew that.


End file.
